


The Anna Norrington Diaries

by infinitarisus



Series: The Legend of Rose Hexfury [6]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaptered, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Post-Canon, Queer Themes, Series, Spinoff, Suggestive Themes, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitarisus/pseuds/infinitarisus
Summary: Part 6 of The Legend of Rose Hexfury series. Anna Norrington, daughter of James Norrington and Rose Hexfury and niece to Jack Sparrow, lives a sheltered life shrouded in mystery. She and her childhood friend Henry Turner have been kept distant by their mothers from a strange curse that has imprisoned their undead fathers beneath the ocean. When they come of age, together they take matters into their own hands and set off to find the Trident of Poseidon, a mystical object that they believe can reverse their tragic fates.





	1. A Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> If you are just joining me, I highly recommend starting with the first five parts of this fic, as they cover who Anna's mother is and how these characters have found themselves here. 
> 
> The Anna Diaries is a spinoff of my OC fic and still tries to be as close to canon as possible. The places where I diverge are where Dead Men Tell No Tales diverges from its own canon previously established by the other films. I also continue on from where DMTNT left off, as a sixth film is unlikely and I have been reeling at that post credits scene since the movie's release! 
> 
> So enjoy Anna's stories, and as ever, feel free to leave feedback!

TO: C.

FROM: A.

 

Hello, my sweet. I hope that the following pages, which for the moment, I have entitled _The Anna Diaries,_ find their way to you, wherever you might be sailing. I wanted to send them to you first before anyone else for two main reasons; First, that they are the first pages I have penned as a collective story in sequence, and I want them read by someone I trust before I embark on my next project. What is this project, you might ask, as the last time we exchanged letters, I was still rather undecided on the whole matter. Well, I am pleased to finally tell you exactly what I intend to write; I call it, _The Legend of Rose Hexfury._ In my travels and research, there is much known about Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner and James Norrington…but nothing of her. So I will be the one to record her unwritten history. Before that time, however, I wanted to ensure that I could at the very least write my own stories down coherently from my memories before I try to record detailed histories that I was not present for and absolutely _must_ get right.

 

The second reason is for you, love. When times are dark, and they inevitably will be, I want you to know who we _are,_ where we came from. You are so fortunate to be living the life you find yourself in, though at times you will undoubtedly call this into question. Just know that for every lightless day, someone else’s day could be darker. Just as I now am setting out to uncover details about the world before I was born, these are the details of the world before _you_ were born. We underwent much hardship, yet found a way out of it. I thank the heavens that you will never have to know the childhood that I lived, but I also don’t rue it entirely, for it formed who I ultimately became.

 

I suppose what I am trying to say is to read these pages, know my story, and perhaps use some of the lessons I had to learn to aid you along in your own fight for what you want most. I can’t wait to see the story that your life will write.

 

Be strong, be smart, and be good. Godwilling, you will find yourself in England with me in the coming years. Things are moving along swimmingly here, and with just a bit more time, we’ll be ready for you.

 

Enjoy _The Anna Diaries,_ and please, do write soon.

 

\- A. 


	2. Thirteen

To celebrate my thirteenth year, my mother, Rose Hexfury, presented me with a diary. Its width was the length of my hand, from wrist to fingertip, and it had a binding made of Italian leather that was soft to the touch, with a darker piece of leather that served as a strap binding the covers shut when not in use. Within its pages, I kept a detailed account of my daily life, be it the most mundane daily tasks or the wildest situations that I found myself in. I’ve always had a penchant for history, so I took the task of keeping a diary very seriously as though I was recording the travels of a famous explorer. For three years I kept these writings alive, and when one diary was full, I began another. I was the hero of my own journey, a woman of status whose scribblings would later be preserved and treasured by scholars for generations, I figured. Only now that a significant amount of time has past since filling theses journals do I realize how juvenile these aspirations were. It was a selfish ambition to think that my story would be more important than other famous pirates of the Caribbean I have been fortunate enough to be aligned with.

However, I do still consider the stories I recorded in those diaries important, especially as they detailed the years surrounding the epic fight that would test my family to the utmost; We were separated, cursed, chased, hunted, and stretched to each of our limits. These years redefined the idea of “family,” for me, and I know that living through them altered who I ultimately became.

For months now, I have poured over these diaries, looking over my chronological accounts, binding them together into one story, and adding in details in retrospect that could not have been known to me at the time of their writing but I have since come to uncover.

Without further ado, I present to you _The Anna Diaries._

\- Anna J. Norrington

 

* * *

 

“ _April 23, 1765,”_ I penned excitedly using a quill and ink into the new pages of my diary. Although now gone from years of wear and weathering, I can still remember how those freshly-pressed pages smelled when I first started writing within them. I breathed in the aroma and began scribbling as many details about myself as I could as a sort of introduction. I was laying across my bed on my stomach, my feet swinging lazily from the knees as I held them above me. 

Although Mother had given me the diary as my birthday gift mere hours ago, I was wasting no time at all in beginning my writings, and I learned that day just how quickly time can pass when one is fully immersed in their work. I heard the crossed and haphazardly constructed floorboards of our abode creak with the weight of my Mother as I heard her call out to me from above, “Anna!”

“What?” I yelled back, eyes refusing to wander from the page as I listed off physical details about myself. _Skin: Brown, Hair: Brown, Eyes…_

“Don’t ‘what’ me, mademoiselle!” she scolded. “Come up here! They’ll be arriving at any moment now.”

I let out a huff of exasperation, reluctant to stray from my new passion. I quickly finished the line, _Eyes: Green,_ replaced the cap on my ink, and put the quill and diary away. I left my room and crossed the narrow hallway to the stairs, being careful to avoid the jutting beam at the foot of the steps that had conked the heads of many a visitor to the Brethren meeting room before. I skipped up the steps, brushing my hand along the wooden globe, causing it and its many nicks from years of being stabbed by the nine Brethren Court Pirate Lords to spin wildly. I slowed only upon seeing the candles of the chandeliers lit and three dining places set at the grand meeting table.

My mother, Rose Hexfury, crossed into the room from the back with enough dishes to set a fourth place. “You would have spent the whole night in that room had I not called you up!”

I grinned sheepishly. “I suppose I got a tad carried away.”

She raised an eyebrow, saying sarcastically, “Oh, do you think so?” Placing the final plate down on the table, she put her hands on her hips and looked to me. “I hope pork will suffice.”

I came closer, leaning up against one of the chair backs. “Certainly!” I replied. I then furrowed my brow and counted out the place settings. “How many are we expecting tonight?”

“Well, seeing as I see four chairs, four plates, and four mugs, I would have to say… _four,_ ” she replied humorously.

I tried to not reveal my disappointment as I said, “No Grandfather?”

“I’m sorry, love,” Mother said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “If he was in the area, you know he would make the effort to come back.”

I nodded in understanding. Mother’s father, Edward Teague, who once resided within the Cove we now lived in, was the Keeper of the Pirate Code when the Brethren Court was still a ruling body over the seas before the War on Piracy, and now traversed the world in his ship, the _Misty Lady._ He would occasionally stop by to visit, bringing with him many souvenirs and stories from his adventures. I had hoped to see him on my birthday, but I knew well that a life at sea meant uncertain conditions for an expected return. “It’s alright,” I replied. “This will be a joyous night nonetheless.”

Mother grinned. “I hope so.” Her expression then changed as she said, “There’s a few things I would like to discuss with you before the others arrive. Would you please take a chair?”

I did so, inwardly fearing some serious discussion or scolding for any various chore in Mother’s storeroom below that I might have rushed through or carried out improperly. She must have seen my hesitancy, for she continued with, “All good news, I assure you. _And_ a present!”

“Another one?” I asked. “But the diary…”

“—Was from me!” she exclaimed, darting into her father’s old quarters in the meeting room to retrieve said present. “This is from your father!”

My heart sank as she said this. I was getting a bit old for this lie, I thought. There was no possible way that this gift could be from my father. But for the past nine birthdays, this had been a tradition she had kept, and I hadn’t the heart to break it to her that I knew Father had nothing to do with the presents, lest I hurt her. So I obeyed when she ordered that I close my eyes and extend my hands out towards her. I suddenly felt an object of significant weight get placed into my palms, and while my eyes were still closed, I felt the cold metal and ran my hands along the curious shape of this item.

“Good lord, just _open_ them!” Mother said impatiently, though still with a smile.

I did, and I felt my heart soar when I saw that it was a pistol. It had a dark red wooden handle, a long barrel, and shined with the light from the chandelier above us.

“It’s time you start learning to defend yourself, though you _must_ be careful,” she explained, taking a seat next to me. “You’ve seen the horrors of some gunshot wounds that enter our shop. And if you don’t want that to be you, you’ll take caution. And you won’t shoot a thing until you’ve been properly trained. I’ve already talked it through with Elizabeth. _I_ was never much good with the blasted thing, but she was always quite the marksman. Perhaps you can discuss it with her this evening.”

“Absolutely!” I cried, thoroughly enjoying the feeling having my own weapon had upon me. “Thank you!”

She shook her head, saying with a wistful grin, “Don’t thank _me._ This was your father’s doing.”

A pang hit my stomach when she said this again. I took a moment, then corrected myself with, “Well, thank… _him._ ”

Mother nodded slowly, then said, “And on that vein…” She looked over my head towards the stairway entrance to the room to ensure that we were alone, then leaned forward towards me with her voice lowered. “Would you like to join the meeting tonight?”

My mouth fell agape in awe at this request. “You mean…”

“I do,” she finished. “When I was thirteen, I was taken in as Tia Dalma’s apprentice and was trusted with a great many things beneath her guidance. Now you are that age as well, and I think it is high time I take on a skilled apprentice myself. You have done well with the research you have accumulated thus far, and I think you would prove a valuable asset to our meetings.”

I threw my arms around her neck in a firm embrace. “Thank you!” I cried. I had grown up watching my mother take her leave late at night to go to these meetings once weekly, and I yearned to be present at them. Informal as they might be, feeling included in them made all the difference.

As I drew back from our embrace, my mother grasped me firmly by the elbows, her eyes darting from one of my eyes to the other as she looked earnestly into them. “You know what this means, however,” she said. “You must be discreet.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“This stays between the three of us. He can never know.”

“Who can never know?” another voice said behind us.

Mother and I nearly leapt out of our skin at the unseen visitor who had just entered the room. _Henry._ Mother quickly recovered, rising to her feet and sweeping over to him to place a kiss on his cheek in greeting. “Oh nothing,” she lied masterfully. “Just a down-on-his-luck customer who keeps _insisting_ that he knows where the Chest is.”

Henry narrowed his eyes, clearly alarmed by the mention of the chest that held his father’s undead and still-beating heart within its metal confines. “How does he know of the Chest in the first place?”

Mother’s lie appeared to have worked, but Henry was now causing undue alarm for something that wasn’t even real. I chimed in, coming to Mother’s aid, “Oh, you know how legends get around. The bloke still thinks it’s Davy Jones’s heart that’s inside. He’s a few years late to the chase.”

“Still,” he said, “It’s a concern that he’s found the island where it’s hidden, don't you think?”

“No,” I instantly replied. “Shipwreck Cove is one of the most formidable pirate fortresses and supply areas in the seven seas. The mystery of it is all but gone now.”

“Aye,” Mother replied. “I expect we’ll have a few more men seeking riches in the coming years insistent upon asking questions about the Chest.”

Henry pursed his lips, clearly not satisfied by this answer. “Well, if anyone becomes a bit _too_ insistent, never hesitate to retrieve me. I’ll take of it.”

Mother patted Henry’s shoulder with a grin. “Much appreciated, my dear, but we can manage for ourselves.”

Any further questioning by Henry was cut short, as just then, his mother, Elizabeth came up the stairs behind him, her dark brown hair pulled back in a single braid down her back. Upon seeing me, she crossed around her son to give me a firm embrace. “Thirteen already, Anna!” she cooed, then placing a hand alongside my cheek. “You really _must_ stop growing up so quickly.”

“I’m trying my best, I assure you,” I said with a laugh.

Mother chimed in, “Anna just received the present I told you about.”

Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed. “Go on, now, let me see it.” I obeyed, fetching it from the table and bringing it back to her to inspect. “It’s a good model,” she said, turning it over in her hand. Looking up at me, she said, “Let me know when you would like to begin training with it.”

“As soon as I can,” I replied merrily.

She smiled. “Then it shall be so! Come by the lighthouse tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can do. Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

She returned the gun to me, then turned to my Mother. “Need any help with dinner, Rose?”

“I do, in fact,” Mother replied, ushering her towards the stairs to the storeroom where she had been preparing our meal.

I called out from behind them, “Anything I can do?” secretly hoping that the answer would be “Yes.”

“No, we’ve got it covered,” Mother called back from the stairs as she disappeared into the lower levels of the fortress. “Stay above and converse with Henry!”

I cringed. I didn’t _want_ to converse with Henry. He was six years my senior and had lived on the other side of Shipwreck Island since I was four. He worked in the town and only on rare or special occasions like today would pay a visit to the fortress. We had little to nothing in common, and I always found conversations between us extremely forced and dull.

“So…a pistol, eh?” he started awkwardly.

“Aye,” I replied simply, running my fingers along its shape once more. “It’s my first weapon.”

“Your first?” he said in disbelief. “You mean you don’t have a sword?”

 _Here we go,_ I thought, knowing full well what was about to come next. “No,” I replied.

Sure enough, he began his typical rant about swordsmanship. “You really _should_ learn how to handle a sword. It’s a valuable skill to have. That’s why I sought out the apprenticeship in the Shipwreck blacksmith shop in the first place.”

“Really? And it wasn't at all because your father was a blacksmith’s apprentice?” I asked, unable to resist the jab at his ego.

He stood straighter, clearly vexed by my retort. “I won’t deny that he had a great deal to do with it. He used to practice three hours a day with the swords he forged, you know. So I practice for _four_ hours a day. I believe it’s in my blood to be a swordsman.”

 _Is it also in your blood to be a braggart?_ I stewed silently.

Henry continued his speech with something that really _did_ make my blood boil. “You could be a skilled swordsman yourself. I’ve heard Norrington was rather good as well.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I snapped upon hearing him postulate about my father. He then grew silent, clearly seeing my upset. We were quiet for a time, just letting the thick silence stand stagnant around us.

Finally, he took a step towards me, wringing his hands uncertainly. “If…if I told you there was a way…” His voice trailed off.

I narrowed my eyes, uncertain of his meaning. “A way for what?”

“To reverse it,” he said. “To bring them back.”

I felt my heart leap at this. He was referring to our fathers. But what did he know of how to reverse their situation? None of this made any sense.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“There’s…” he began, but was instantly silenced upon hearing our mothers begin their ascent back up the stairs with the food. “Nothing, never mind,” he said resignedly, taking a seat at the table without another word on the matter.

Soon, we would be dining together and speaking on other matters, but my head was racing, wondering what on earth Henry knew that he wasn’t revealing and had possibly been concealing from the rest of us. And even bigger still was the anticipation that grew with every passing moment, as it meant that we were one second closer to my very first meeting.


	3. Stagnant

I twirled my now empty teacup around my fingers anxiously. My mother and I sat at the meeting table, which was now empty with the exception of our tea setting, waiting for the meeting to begin.

“Is—“ I began to ask, before she cut me off.

“She’ll be here,” Mother reassured me for the easily the eighteenth time. “It takes awhile to get here, and it must always be very late at night. You know this.”

“I know,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m just anxious for it to begin.”

“Don’t fret,” she said, calmly sipping her tea. “This time you are here mostly to observe, so just be patient and take it all in.”

I agreed, trying my best to calm the racing of my heart. This all but failed entirely, especially when Elizabeth finally arrived.

“So sorry I’m late,” she apologized, rushing towards the table. She stopped in her tracks upon seeing me. “Oh,” she said, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s this?” she asked my mother.

“I’m allowing Anna to take part in our meetings,” she explained, motioning for Elizabeth to take a seat at her side. “She’s always been privy to what we discuss, and she has helped significantly in our search for answers. She’s nearly grown now, and I think it’s high time she has a say in our actions.”

Elizabeth was seated, gazing at me with an uncertain look that made me feel desperate to keep my place at this table. Quickly, I blurted, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Henry a thing.”

“You _can’t_ ,” she swiftly countered in agreement. “Nothing that we say here leaves this room, understood?”

I nodded emphatically. Satisfied by my compliance, Elizabeth then turned to Mother. “Then, I trust your discretion.” She then cocked her head to the side. “Upon leaving here earlier, Henry told me that you said that a man was here inquiring about the Chest? Who was this?”

Elizabeth, who had been dubbed the Pirate King nearly twenty years ago and was thereby the manager of all affairs of Shipwreck Island, was kept abreast of all developments, _especially_ those concerning her husband, Will Turner. Surely hearing this news caused her significant alarm.

“That was a lie,” Mother assured her. “Henry walked in on me telling Anna that she could come to the meetings, so I had to make something up. Clearly it worked, but I unwisely chose a sensitive topic, and for that I do apologize.”

“So…no one has been asking about the Chest?”

“No one besides Blackbeard, but he’s been dead for years now,” she said.

Elizabeth poured some tea for herself and settled into her chair. “That’s a relief. I’ve already had to dye my hair to prevent recognition from the British once England regained its stronghold in the Caribbean. We don’t need yet another fiasco on our hands.”

Mother, who had been the one to dye her natural, sun-bleached golden hair a dark brown shade a few years ago, smirked, tossing her own black curls over her shoulder. “ _I_ happen to think it looks nice.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Of _course_ you do.” She took a long sip of her tea, and then said, “I asked Jefferson to chart a route out to sea that crosses the _Bountiful_ over where the _Dutchman_ lies. He’s reported as of two days ago that the _Bountiful_ is always veered off course every time he attempts the route, which means that the current still holds strong.”

Mother nodded slowly. “I expected as much.”

“Any developments on your end?” Elizabeth asked, looking between me and Mother.

Mother gave a small smile to me, permitting me to speak at the table. “Go on,” she said encouragingly. “Say what you found out.”

I took a deep breath, then nervously said, “Well, according to the confines of Calypso’s original curse upon the _Dutchman,_ land is a safe haven of return once every ten years, yes?” Both women nodded. I gulped, then continued, “And if we look back at the Kraken, Uncle Jack—I mean, Jack Sparrow—“

Mother chuckled. “It’s just us, Anna. You aren’t being tested.”

I gave a breathy laugh, then calmed myself once more. “ _Jack_ was only safe from the Kraken when he was on land. Many myths and legends speak of land as a refuge from sea curses. I’ve found accounts from Scandinavia, Africa, one out of the Devil’s triangle…”

“What she’s trying to say,” Mother interjected, “Is that land is at least temporary protection from evils within the ocean, it would appear. So, we figure that we will finally have answers within the month.”

Elizabeth nodded. “The second Return Day.” Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, “I can’t believe it’s already been yet another ten years.”

Mother’s face darkened as she cast her eyes downwards into her cup. “I can.”

Elizabeth laid a hand on her forearm. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. I know how tirelessly you have been working to bring them back.”

I tried to encourage her as well, “Aye, and we decided years ago to wait for Return Day to provide us answers. We know that Will will be safe from whatever dangers are preventing him from telling us what is keeping them hostage once he arrives on land.”

“It’s just one more month,” Elizabeth said, branching off of my thought. “We’ve waited this long, we can wait one more month.”

Mother nodded after a time, then quietly said, “Let’s recant all that we know so far, just to make sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Elizabeth and I exchanged a glance, both knowing the tale by heart at this point. I was certain that at every minute of every day, my mother was recanting the story in her head, trying to think of any other explanation as to what happened and coming up with the same fruitless results every time. But if it made her feel better to discuss it aloud with us for what must have been the thousandth time, we would take part.

The story, with all of its many unsolved facets, went as follows:

James Norrington, my father, was an undead soul sailing with about two dozen other undead souls aboard the _Flying Dutchman,_ serving beneath the command of Captain Will Turner, Elizabeth’s husband and Henry’s father. My mother was at one time an apprentice to a woman named Tia Dalma, a bayou soothsayer who was later revealed to actually be the sea goddess Calypso, bound in human form by her jilted lover and previous captain of the _Dutchman,_ Davy Jones. Upon being freed by Hector Barbossa as a strategic move for the pirates to win the War on Piracy, Calypso split her powers with Rose in order to never again be bound in human form, rendering her immortal and with the ability to control the seas. When her true form was realized, she agreed to serve aboard the _Dutchman,_ finally uniting the powers of the soul ferrying Captain (now in the form of Will) and the sea goddess Calypso (Rose).

While onboard, Rose fell in love with James. They married and produced me. Though they were immortal, I was not. Thankfully, many of the rooms within the _Dutchman_ were water-resistant, thereby allowing for my survival when the ship would travel through the depths of the ocean to reach Davy Jones’s Locker or return to Earth. For three years I lived with my parents aboard, until the first Return Day, as it had been dubbed by a young and eager Henry. On Return Day, which occurred once every ten years, Will could go ashore to be with Elizabeth and their son, as was the original accords of the curse laid out by Calypso to Davy Jones. Was it fair? Absolutely not. But it was the only way for Will to remaining living, and he humbly took whatever opportunity he had to be with his family, however limited.

Mother, Father and I also went ashore that day, basking in the celebration of our families finally being united. Though I cannot remember it, it was spoken of as a joyous time, especially as it was the first memory Henry had of meeting his father. When sunset called us back to the _Dutchman_ for another ten year-long engagement, we made sail out of Shipwreck Harbor and back towards the horizon to disappear with the setting sun into the Locker, as was custom.

But something was lying in wait for us as we ventured out further and further. Never would we make our descent, for something or someone had taken control of the _Dutchman_ and began to drag the ship to the bottom of the ocean floor. The crew desperately tried to break themselves free. Father, as First Mate to Will and a former Navy Admiral, led the crew into every defensive strategy he could think of, but it was as if the ship was acting on its own volition. As the seawater began to pour over the side of the ship onto the deck, all looked hopeless. Father retrieved me, placed me in my mother’s arms, and ordered us to leave the ship to keep me safe, as there would be no way I would survive being dragged beneath the waves.

Mother instinctively obeyed, using her powers to envelop us inside a pocket beneath the waves to steer us as quickly as we could back to Shipwreck Island. The sun had fully dissipated by the time she was able to carry me to a high enough bluff towards where the ship had tried to sail, and the _Dutchman_ by that time was fully submerged beneath the ocean. So sudden was our retreat that Mother couldn’t recall just where the _Dutchman_ was taken down. We sought refuge at the fortress in Shipwreck Cove, where Elizabeth and Henry had just returned from seeing us off. Together, they plotted to find the _Dutchman_ and find any means by setting them free by whatever was keeping them.

I was left with Mathilde Davis, who had by that time become Henry’s regular yet increasingly bitter nanny whenever Elizabeth or Rose was preoccupied with other important business, while Mother, Elizabeth, Henry, and a few trusted men from Elizabeth’s commissioned ship the _Bountiful_ took a small frigate to look search for the ship. Mother would channel her energy into pushing aside spots of the ocean as deep as she could to try searching for any signs of the _Dutchman._ Finally, after days of futile searching, Mother caught a glimpse of just the tip of the _Dutchman_ ’s mast protruding from the ocean that she was able to blast back. She then tossed herself into the waves, using her powers to lower herself downwards towards it, then manipulating the water to force it up to the surface.

As water poured off the deck and Mother caught her breath, she was raised to her feet by none other than my father, who immediately began firmly yelling at her to return to shore at once. The _Dutchman_ had been raised within just a few meters of the frigate where Elizabeth and Henry stood watching this all take place. Chaos erupted on deck once Will saw his wife and child onboard, and he immediately ordered Elizabeth to take Henry below deck where he would be safer. Elizabeth obeyed, but Henry resisted, crying out to his father that he would someday find him again before Elizabeth’s strength ultimately bested his and he was forced below deck. Will then joined my father by my mother’s side and began to insist that she take the frigate back to land at once.

“No!” she protested. “Not until you tell me what’s happening. What’s keeping you here?”

“We’re tethered to the bottom of the ocean,” Will replied. “Go! It’s up to you to find a way to free us.”

Mother shook her head, not understanding. “What do you mean? Who could have possibly tethered you?”

“We cannot say,” Will barked. “Please just go before they capture you as well.”

“Who?!” she cried. “I can’t help you unless you tell me _who_ did this!”

“Rose,” my father said, cupping her face with his hands. “You must obey orders and _go._ Do not return to us until you have a thorough plan of rescue. Do you understand?”

“How will I know where to begin?” she asked.

James and Will exchanged a glance, then Will said cryptically, “Begin at the end.”

Just then, the ship’s body shuddered, and Father then tossed my Mother overboard, knowing that with her powers, she would be safe. The _Dutchman_ once again was lowered into the waves below, out of reach of my mother’s help. She defeatedly climbed back aboard the frigate, and reluctantly turned the ship towards land, where she poured into research to try to figure out who could have possibly taken the ship and the meaning behind Will’s words; _Begin at the end._

For months, Rose, Elizabeth, and Henry worked seemingly without end. During this time, Teague came to visit his old haunts, and was astonished to find his daughter and granddaughter ashore. Mother opted not to tell him about what had befallen her ship, and waited until he left on another voyage to continue her studies. This was much to the chagrin of Henry as well, who was passionate about adventuring with Rose’s half-brother, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Rose hadn’t seen her brother in years, but she decided that even if he too one day came to Shipwreck, she would keep the situation a secret from both members of her family. She knew these two men, both of whom shared a passion for acting completely on impulse, or, as they liked to say, “improvisation,” and also shared a keen adoration for Rose. If either of them knew about the danger the _Dutchman_ was in, they would instantly launch into a full rescue initiative. She would instead never let on that there was anything wrong and heed Will and James’s advice to fully put together a plan before attempting a rescue.

A year passed, and Mother began to grow desperate as nothing changed. Her research led to dead ends, and her crew, Captain, and husband were still trapped and completely powerless. Feeling as though she was letting them down, she one day decided to adopt her brother and father’s methods of improvisation and make an attempt to save the _Dutchman,_ despite having no plans whatsoever.

“I can’t just sit here and watch as Anna gets another year older without her father. I’ve got to do something,” Mother had tried to reason with a reluctant Elizabeth.

“You _are_ doing something,” Elizabeth reassured her. “Just stick to the plan. I will work twice as hard to help you find a solution, I promise. I just can’t help but feel that Will wouldn’t have given those orders for you to stay away unless it was incredibly dangerous.”

“What could they possibly do to me?” Rose asked. “I have the powers of Calypso! Nothing can harm me.”

“And you think Will doesn’t know that? Rose, they wanted you off that ship for a reason. They _must_ know something.”

But Mother refused to listen. “Maybe if I go by myself, not putting any other living souls in danger…”

“Rose, _stop!_ ” Elizabeth ordered. “Why won’t you heed their warnings?”

“Because I can’t raise Anna by myself!” she blurted, her shoulders suddenly shaking as sobs overtook her.

“I’m raising Henry by myself.” Elizabeth took a moment, then placed her hands on Rose’s shoulders encouragingly. “You _can._ And you _must._ I know you lived a parentless life that you would never want for your daughter. I know how painful this is, believe me, more than _anyone._ But our first and foremost role now are as mothers. It kills me to say this, but at the end of the day those men out there can defend themselves. Anna cannot. Henry cannot. One parent is one parent more than you had. If you rush into danger, you might be denying Anna even _that_ much.”

Mother finally conceded, telling Elizabeth that she would continue the slow journey towards uncovering the truth, though this was a boldfaced lie. Her confidence still elevated by her immortality and powers, decided then to go behind her back and take the same frigate and few men back out to the ship’s resting place that night. They set sail, despite an impending storm creating rough, choppy waters, and only when the ship was far enough out to sea did Henry make his presence known; He had stowed away upon following Rose out to the docks to board the ship that night.

Though Rose was furious at his persistence and certainly didn’t want to endanger him, she ultimately allowed for him to stay instead of turning back, telling him to stay below decks. She then raised the _Dutchman_ again, though this time was another matter entirely. She was able to raise it from her position on the frigate’s deck, and as it crested the surface of the waves, the ship began firing at the frigate immediately. Rose struggled to see any member of the crew aboard through the chaos of the smoke and flying cannonballs. The frigate, completely undermanned and inept to take any significant hits from the _Dutchman,_ sank within minutes. The lower decks filled with water first, and as Rose scrambled to try to keep the vessel afloat, she had completely forgotten that she had ordered Henry to remain below in these now-completely filled compartments of the ship. She let go of her resistance to race to find him, thereby allowing the ship to continue its decent into the ocean, where it broke apart due to the pressure of the waves and the damage it had procured during the battle. Frantically, Rose searched for Henry in the pounding, chaotic waters. When she finally did locate him, he was unconscious, having taken in a significant amount of seawater when he was trapped in the decks below. The _Dutchman,_ having attained its objective, lowered back into its watery prison, and Rose was left no choice but to own up to her failures and return to Shipwreck. She, Henry, and the only surviving man of the three she brought aboard were transported back to the Cove, where they were treated at her storeroom.

Henry, blessedly, was revived, but not before a frightened and furious Elizabeth found them within the storeroom. Although Henry fully admitted his fault, Elizabeth was so livid with my mother’s stubbornness that she could barely look at her. Upon putting Henry to bed, she returned to the storeroom, where Mother sat, despondent, discouraged, and still sopping wet.

“I thought I could do it,” she said. “I never anticipated…”

“What. That what Will told you could _possibly_ be correct?” Elizabeth shook her head angrily. “You’re a fool.” After a moment of tense silence, she then quietly stated, “This is getting to be too much. All that Henry _ever_ talks about is Will and plans to get Will back. He loves him so much…but, when I at one time asked you if I should have been keeping Will’s identity mostly a mystery to Henry…I now see that the answer was yes. I should have listened to my own intuition. This was a mistake.”

“Elizabeth, no…”

“ _Yes,_ ” she insisted. “Rose, for once, we are _equals._ We are both mothers who have lost our husbands and are trapped on land, relatively powerless to save them. I have just as much at stake as you do. I am the sole parent of my child at the moment, and it is my job to _parent._ And as a parent, I choose to keep my son safe. The only way I can keep him safe is to keep him out of this. That’s why…that’s…why I am moving out of the fortress.”

Mother’s eyes went wide upon hearing this. “You’re…what?” 

Elizabeth stood, grabbing a roll of parchment and laying it on a crate in front of where Mother sat. She rolled it out, revealing a plan for a building. “On the westernmost point of the island, I will commission a lighthouse to be built. That’s what _I_ can do to help. It’s not much, but I pray that Will can see its light each night and know that he is not alone. I will be his lighthouse. It will be his beacon when things get most dark. And there, I will raise Henry. Away from…all of this,” she said, motioning around the storeroom. “I will keep my own research going, I will help you as much as I can, and we can meet once a week here to discuss whatever we discover. But I choose not to speak to Henry about Jack, or Will, or any sort of rescue attempt to Henry any longer. He’s reckless, like both me and Will were. He’s all I have left. I cannot risk him doing something foolish and losing his life. And I hope that you also respect my wishes. Don’t involve him. You may raise Anna however you see fit, just leave my son out of this.”

The lighthouse was built, Henry and Elizabeth left, and business continued as usual as the years passed. The Cove remained a pirate supply and safe haven, the town continued a steady growth in its economy, Elizabeth presided over it all, and Rose kept her storeroom and hospital going. Research took place in the meantime behind Henry’s back, and the weekly meetings between the two women regularly occurred. Mother visited the _Dutchman_ ’s resting place on her own in a dinghy only one time three years the shipwreck, finding a powerful current surrounding the area of the imprisonment, keeping all passersby unable to get close.

Every development once again lead to dead ends, the truth remained concealed from Henry and Teague, Jack remained missing, and mother continuously kept me abreast of all of it. Henry and I continued to grow towards adulthood, and the stagnancy of the _Dutchman’s_ trapping had become a common part of our lives, though it continued to eat away at all of us in our own ways.

I sometimes thought I could I remember him. My father. Mother would tell me everything she could about him, as though her words would keep my very basic memories of him from the age of three alive. But for the most part, he was just a hazy memory from the past that was more abstract than literal. Mother would say that my face resembled his, and that I shared his green eyes, but when I would look at myself in a looking glass to try and find some trace of him, I could only see a stranger. James Norrington was just a name of man who shared my blood, nothing more, and I know that this fact would have killed my mother were she not already immortal.

After we together recounted all of this, there was an uncomfortably long silence, as once again we had hit a dead end. In these moments, I debated on whether or not to tell them that Henry might have stumbled upon a solution. I didn’t know this to be completely true, and if for some reason our meanings had gotten crossed, I couldn’t risk accidentally revealing to him that the rest of us together had been plotting a rescue, concealing information from him for ten years now. So…I said nothing.

Elizabeth sighed, then finally said, “So…we wait for Return Day?”

“Aye,” Mother said sullenly. “We wait for Return day.”


	4. Return Day

_May 26, 1765._

Exactly twenty years to the day after Jones and Beckett were bested, the pirates reigned supreme, and the war was ended, and yet our fight had not been won, not even in the slightest. The entire day had been spent with all of us aflutter in anticipation, awaiting for the sunset. Mother was particularly anxious all afternoon, constantly on the move, moving items that did not need to be moved on the shelves in the storeroom, reorganizing herbs again and again, _anything_ to keep herself preoccupied. I meanwhile was lost in thought as I performed my daily storeroom chores, wondering what it would be like to finally meet my father. What would I say? What would _he_ say? What would he look like? What would he act like?

I had heard both good and bad things about him. He was brave and selfless, witty and loving, loyal and a leader. But he was also ambitious and manipulative, deceitful and cunning, cold and bitter. These traits in my mind cancelled each other out—so which was the Father I was going to get, if I was going to see him tonight at all?

Around the late afternoon, Mother closed the storeroom so that we could get ready. I fretted for hours about what to wear. Was a dress too feminine, or pants too informal? Did my look even matter whatsoever? I finally decided to tie my hair back with a simple ribbon, wearing a white blouse, a vest, and my green skirt with my boots. I met Mother downstairs. She looked beautiful, her hair in elaborate braids twisted among each other to make an almost hypnotic design. She wore her red dress she had once sported aboard the _Dutchman_ with the black bodice. She took my hand, and we walked together to make the hike up to the lighthouse.

We were silent for a time, until I asked the question that had been on my mind for most of my childhood, but had particularly been eating at me for the past few hours; “Mother,” I asked gently, "What will he be like? Father? If he comes?” I swallowed my apprehension as I proceeded with, "I'm not sure what to expect when the _Dutchman_ comes back to shore.”

She looked down at me, wearing a sad smile. "Your father," she began, "Has a wit that is unmatched. He's extremely astute and has a brilliant mind for strategy. He's...powerful. Commanding.”

I shifted uncomfortably. None of these descriptors sounded endearing to me. I then asked, "Do you...do you think he'll like me?”

Mother blinked, as though she couldn't believe what I was asking. She then stopped walking, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other under my chin. "Ma Cherie," she cooed, "He loves you more than you could possibly know. Of course he'll like you."

"But he sounds...cold," I protested.

Her expression grew pensive as she cocked her head to the side. ”I don't think I ever told you about when I first told him that I was pregnant with you," she began. "I didn't know it was possible to have a child as we both had already died, so I doubted for a long time. But finally, I just knew, as mothers always seem to do. I realized how it was possible—both you and Henry. Though we technically are dead, our bodies have been kept alive. We still have beating hearts that too in turn can give life. I was hesitant to tell your father anything, for fear of how he would react.

"There came a time that I had to say something, so one night, after our shifts had ended, I sat him down and told him. He reacted much as I initially did, saying that he thought that was impossible. And of course, he was skeptical, just as I knew he would be. And oh, how he worried and doted! But soon, as I began to show more and more, he became so anxious. He really _wanted_ you. Well," she said, looking down at her hands, "Not exactly you. He wanted a son, as all Fathers do."

Though my stomach dropped in disappointment, my mother, as though anticipating my unsettledness at this comment, quickly reassured me by saying, "Your father wanted nothing more than to have a child at all, but I suppose that he was so particular about you being male because in his eyes, he could train the boy to be a man who could defend himself and be fearsome. With a daughter, there would be a constant fear. A need for _him_ to protect you."

"I don't need anyone's protection," I protested.

Mother smiled, whispering, "You and I know that, but you could never convince the likes of him otherwise. C'est vrai?” Once I grinned in understanding, she proceeded with, "And when the time came and you were born, I watched the most miraculous and curious thing come to pass. At first, when he saw you, he seemed disappointed. He just stared at you, and I stayed still, nearly holding my breath. Then he held you for the first time." Mother's eyes started to grow misty as she spoke the next few words. "His eyes smiled first. Such love, something I had always wished to see from my own parents. You were _his_ , something that could never leave him heartbroken. It was a beautiful thing.”

She drew herself from the memory and gazed back down at me. “So when you say that he sounds cold…largely, he _is._ He’s had a hard life, and he's been hurt many times. He buries his emotions beneath a facade. And it was when he would let me see through that facade that I fell in love with him."

"Do you think the facade will be up one more around me?" I asked.

"Probably," she reluctantly revealed. "It's been so long, and we don't know what he and Will and the crew have been facing for all these years. Tonight will provide us with answers. But I know he won't be the same as we once were." She grabbed squeezed my shoulders and looked at me earnestly. "Promise me that you'll give him a chance. No matter how he looks or what he acts like. Know that he loves you. Know that he's facing a pressure neither of us can fathom."

I promised, though my anxiety only seemed to balloon. We continued on the path to the bluff, once again ceasing all idle chatter. Henry and Elizabeth were already waiting outside when we arrived, and we wordlessly all exchanged tense glances as we walked together down to the cliffside to watch the sunset. Henry looked dapper in a gold and beige suit, while Elizabeth sported a beautiful pink dress I had never seen before.

We waited there together on the bluff overlooking the horizon, just as Henry and Elizabeth had done ten years previous. Sunset grew ever nearer, and I began to grow increasingly impatient.

“What happens next?” I asked aloud to anyone who would answer me.

“Shh!” Henry hushed me. “Just wait!”

My mother, however, just smiled and leaned closer to me, a misty look in her eyes. She seemed to almost be reciting a line from her past as she murmured to herself, “Seldom times, one can spot a green flash along the horizon. Wait and see if it happens now.”

So we did. As the last speck of the sunlight dipped below the ocean, Elizabeth grabbed Mother’s hand and held in her breath. We waited and…

…nothing.

For minutes we waited as darkness began to fall. Finally, I looked up to my elders. “Well? Where are they?” Little did I know that I asked aloud the question they were all asking themselves in utter disbelief.

“Did…we couldn’t have gotten the day wrong…” Elizabeth said distantly, clearly crestfallen as her eyes still searched the horizon as though she just wasn’t seeing the _Flying Dutchman_ floating in the harbor.

“Of course you didn’t!” cried Henry, who was visibly enraged. “Mother, so in peril are they that they can’t escape their bindings for Return Day!”

“Henry,” Mother said in a warning tone. “Just…everyone go home. I will go find them and sort this out.”

“Rose, no, it’s fine,” Elizabeth said, trying to keep from causing trouble.

At the same time, Henry insisted, “Then I’m going with you!”

“No, you aren’t!” Mother demanded, silencing him. “Please, just…take Anna up to the lighthouse. I’ll be along shortly, with our men in tow. Alright?”

“Rose…” Elizabeth said warningly.

“I’ll be _fine,_ ” Mother assured her, though she seemed less certain than she was simply trying to keep everyone calm. She turned to me, placing a hand alongside my face. “I’ll be back soon, my sweet. Go up with Elizabeth.”

“Here,” Henry said, reaching inside his jacket pocket and procuring a crumpled piece of parchment, then handing it over to my mother. “This will help get you precisely there sooner.”

Mother took it and unfolded it to reveal a detailed map of the island, with a distinct marking of where the _Dutchman_ was imprisoned. The map was hand drawn in Henry’s penmanship.

“What is this?” she asked him.

“An accurate map of where the _Dutchman_ lies,” he responded briskly, not providing any further explanation.

“But…how did-“

“Looks like we’re _all_ keeping secrets from one another,” he replied, his jaw tight as he looked between the three of us. My heart raced at this tense moment, as no one seemed certain of what to say next.

Mother finally sighed in exasperation, handing the map back to Henry. “I haven’t the time for this,” she said. “I can find them on my own. I’m leaving!”

Elizabeth caught her arm before she was able to turn and leave, stopping her progress. “Rose,” she said in a low voice, “If you’re not back by sunrise…”

“I will be,” Mother emphasized. Then, looking at me one final time, she said gently, “Don’t you fret. I will sort this all out.”

I couldn’t even get in a word before she had turned, marching straight towards the path which would lead down to the shore. Soon, I was led in the opposite direction back to the Cove, away from the bitter disappointment that was that evening on the bluff.

Upon entering the lighthouse, Elizabeth confronted her son, fury in her eyes. “You will explain to me at once the meaning of that map,” she spat.

“Only if you explain to me why I’ve been kept out of all your plans for the past nine years,” Henry countered, returning her glare. I stood unmoving in the back of the room, petrified to get involved in this quarrel. Henry continued, “You think I didn’t know that you were sneaking off to the Cove once a week? I’ve followed you there. _Many_ times.” He let out an exasperated sigh, casting his eyes downwards as he asked quietly, “Is this all because of the time I nearly drowned as a stowaway?”

“It’s because I wanted to keep you _safe,_ Henry!” Elizabeth cried. “You would have gone galavanting off if I kept all of our plans, and ideas, and theories around you. I wanted you to have as normal and safe of a life as possible. That’s why I moved you here, that’s why I stopped including you on the plans. You would have tried to go out on your own otherwise, I just know it.”

He tensed his jaw before revealing, “I _have_ gone out. To visit them.”

“You have?” I said without thinking. Despite some of his more rash behavior I didn’t agree with, I couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed that he had accomplished this feat.

Elizabeth’s face was flushed with anger. “When?” she said simply.

“Twice,” he answered. “Once eight years ago, and I was able to get the _Dutchman_ to raise itself up. I conversed with Father then. Then I made another attempt a few months later, but by that time, the current had formed around the resting place. I couldn’t even get close.”

I then crossed the room to stand at Elizabeth’s side upon hearing this. “You were actually aboard? You spoke to your father?” He nodded. “Well, what did he say?” I asked. “Who else was there?”

“He refused my help, much like he did the first time Rose tried to save them. And no one else was there…except voices.”

I shook my head, not understanding him. “Voices?”

“It’s no accident that they’re trapped at the bottom of the sea,” Henry said plaintively to the two of us. “Someone _has_ them, and they’ve been keeping watch over them this whole time.” His eyes then grew distant as he remembered. “Father’s face…it was covered in growth from living in nothing but the ocean water.” He shook his head. “If there are any other crewmen still aboard, I shudder to think of what they look like now. That was _eight_ years ago when I last saw them.” He then reached around his neck and lifted out of his shirt a long leather necklace which held a pendant, a shell, and a metal ring.

Elizabeth instantly recognized it, reaching her hand out to touch it. “Will’s necklace,” she whispered.

“Aye,” Henry responded. “He gave it to me as a parting gift that night.”

Tears in her eyes, she then murmured, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Tell me why I _would,”_ he retorted. “Any time I tried to ask about Father, or Jack, or what Rose was up to in the fortress, you only shut me out. If we would have but collaborated, perhaps they would have been freed _years_ ago. With my research…”

“ _Your_ research?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

Without a word, he marched out of the parlor and walked down the hallway towards his room. Elizabeth and I instinctively followed. Within his room, which otherwise looked like the typical furnishings of a boy his age, he began to tear down curtains he had hung over all four walls. As he took them down one by one, Elizabeth and I were astonished to find every inch of the walls covered in parchment he had tacked to them, full of drawings and scribblings and pages from books.

“I have read every book on Shipwreck, I have even borrowed a few from Rose’s storeroom without her noticing.”

I sneered. “You _stole_ them, you mean.”

“I always brought them back!” he protested. “But I have read as much as I could. I have postulated every possible solution, and I keep arriving at but one answer and one answer only; The trident of Poseidon.”

“Henry…” Elizabeth began, silencing him.

“The trident’s but a myth,” I added. “Mother tried to locate it to try to free them all even before I was born. It was supposedly kept in Poseidon’s tomb beneath the sea, and don’t you think if anyone were to be able to locate it, it would be the very crew who _controls_ the seas?” I shook my head sadly. “It doesn’t exist. We’ve tried that route.”

“Father said the same thing!” he insisted. “But there is proof! In the ancient texts, they speak of ‘the map no man can read!’”

“—Which my mother mistakenly gave to Barbossa,” I interrupted him. “We have no idea where it could be, and even if we _could_ find it, how could it possibly be interpreted if no man can read it?”

“Well _nothing_ is being accomplished by just sitting here!” he yelled. “They haven’t come back for Return Day because someone is torturing them down there! If they even _are_ still down there, that is. Anything could have happened by now!”

“We won’t know anything until Rose comes back with news,” Elizabeth said calmly, trying to ease the tension in the room. “So,” she murmured, “We shall wait. We will assess as soon as she returns home with news. Understood?”

Henry and I both nodded bitterly, then wordlessly joined Elizabeth back in the parlor. She fixed us dinner and tea, but our minds were each elsewhere and our bodies completely uninterested in nourishment. Though for ten years, all of us had had the same exact motivation, we somehow had undermined our objective by acting in opposition to one another rather than working together. I couldn’t help but fear that Henry was right; Maybe all of this _could_ have been resolved if we had but collaborated from the beginning.

The night trudged onwards at an excruciatingly slow pace. I began pace the room, with every passing moment fearing the worst for my mother. I remembered what Elizabeth had said to her before she left to go find them; _If you aren’t back before sunrise…_ If she wasn’t back before sunrise, what? What could we possibly do as three mortals without a single clue as to who had captured our loved ones? Eventually I grew weary of pacing and planted myself in a chair, and before I knew it, dozed off into an uneasy sleep.

I was awakened by voices that cut through the silence. I sat up, my eyes adjusting to see the form of my mother, standing in the middle of the room, dripping wet and clutching her silver crab locket that she had inherited from Calypso in her palm. Something else glinted on its chain however…a gold ring.

“Rose, what happened?” Elizabeth asked, fetching her a wool blanket and placing it over her shoulders.

“Aye,” Henry added, “Where are they?”

“Mother?” I said.

She opened her mouth and closed it several times, uncertain of what to say. She finally settled on, “James and Will are still there. They’re fine.” Her lip quivered as she then added on one final, gut-wrenching sentence that cleared the room of any trace of hope; “They’re not coming to shore…and they once again refused to tell me what has them trapped.”


End file.
